


Ninja Kisser

by Agent C (arh581958)



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Adorkable!boys, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Normal High School, Awkward Flirting, Cute, First Kiss, Fluffy, Jock!Clint, M/M, Ninja Kisser!Phil, Oblivious!Clint, Pre-Slash, Secretly Bad-Ass!Phil, Student Council!Phil, pining!Clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 12:54:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5829706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arh581958/pseuds/Agent%20C
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil sat behind the desk which proudly announced: 1 kiss = $1. On a dare, Clint the jock agreed to be the first customer and got kissed an inch from his life by the nerdy boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ninja Kisser

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [WitchWarren](http://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchWarren/pseuds/WitchWarren%22) for her amazing [ideas](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5637928). It's amazing dear~
> 
> Now 16-01-25: Betaread by the awesome [Nerdling_Queen](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerdling_Queen/pseuds/Nerdling_Queen). Love you as always, darling~ :D

It started with a dare. 

Clint was usually on point with people. He can tell which ones are good, bad, or any of the shades in between. He also was good at taking bets because he only took those with rewards, which outweighed the risks. As it was, he didn’t see anything amiss with ‘taking pity on the Student Council’. He tried to be good student, ya know? So he agreed. 

Phil Coulson was sitting behind the lanky foldable desk in an uncomfortable metal chair. There was a makeshift cardboard kiosk cover, painted in red with little white hearts, on top of the table which proudly announced:

**KISSING BOOTH** **  
** 1 Kiss = $1   
_ Help fund our School Fair! _

Three o’clock, and the clear glass jar was dismally empty.

No one was interested in getting a kiss from the third year, Student Council Treasurer. Not that Clint can blame any of them. It wasn’t because Phil was a nerd. The boy just looked perpetually bored, preferring to immerse himself in his stack of old comics and thick paperback novel rather than encourage a line of good-doers. The latter was in short supply in the recent generations. 

Clint sauntered onto the open field where the kissing booth was located, dollar in hand. 

“Hey,” He said, palms flat on the table, leaning in. A dare was a dare, and the least he can do was have fun while doing it, so he flexes his arm muscles in a way he knew made the cheerleaders swoon. These arms, after all, were the result of  _ years _ of grueling workout sessions and basketball. He liked showing them off. 

The boy behind the table was having none of it, opting to ignore him. 

It irked him, but he wasn’t one to back down so easily. 

Dropping to his elbows, Clint shifted until they were eye to eye, Phil’s were a dark shade of brown. He lowered his octave a fraction deeper and spoke again, “Hey, sign says I can get a kiss for a dollar.” He lifts up his friend Georgie between his index and middle finger, waving it around with a waggle of his eyebrows. “Is this where I pay up?” 

Phil pointed to the empty jar, simultaneously flipping the page to his book, without ever looking up. 

Clint, now annoyed, rolled his eyes and shoved in the dollar. “There,” he said, miffed, “I put the dollar in the freaking j—” He never got to finish his sentence because, suddenly and without ever looking up from his book, Phil surged up and fitted their lips together in a kiss. 

_ The _ kiss was nothing like Clint ever expected. One of Phil’s hands were buried, and badly wrinkling, his floppy white collar, forcing him close in a surprising amount of strength. Phil was scandalously confident in the way he kissed. It was lips, teeth, tongue—his entire mouth basically—working over Clint’s like a benevolent  _ god _ sending gifts to his people.  

Clint gripped the edge of the table to keep himself from toppling over because his knees were rapidly turning into jelly. They buckled under his weight, he tipped a little, and the new angle was perfect. Phil’s tongue was deep inside his mouth, licking him in crevices where he didn’t know existed, expertly stroking nerves that sent shivers all the way to his toes.

It was like the other boy didn’t even need air. They kissed on, and on, and on. He didn’t know when, exactly, he close his eyes. The entire world narrowed down to the feeling of Phil’s slick saliva-coated lips sliding against his own. It was easily the best kiss of his  _ life _ , and he’s been kissed plenty before but nothing quite like this. 

Phil kissed like it was the only thing that mattered, like it was the only thing in the world, like it was  _ it _ the big end-game, the finish line, the top of the mountain. Clint can smell the scent of sweat caused by sitting under the sun too long, seeping into to fabric of Phil’s clothes, and the spicy cologne that Phil must use—it smelled expensive, it smelled of Phil.

Then, just when he finally had enough brainpower to kiss back, it was over.

Clint made a whiny pathetic sound as their lips parted, casing the feeling of Phil’s lips. A rough shove on the shoulder, he went crashing down, knees buckling, dropping to the ground, ass in a puddle of soft dirt, limbs all awkwardly sprawled.

He gawked up at Phil, just in time to see the boy messily wipe his lips with the back of his hand and sit back down like nothing happened, cross-legged, book in hand, opening where it was marked with his thumb, looking unperturbed about the whole thing. 

_ “Wh—what? _ Huh?” He said, confused, and then realized, with both amazement and mortification that;  _ Phil hadn’t even put the book down.  _ “What the heck just happened?”

“Next time, Barton,” Phil’s calm, unwavering, voice caught Clint off-guard, “Next time you make a dare with your  _ bros _ . Do it out of regular people’s hearing distance.” He said blankly and sighed, “Or at least keep your voices from hollering it across the field. I heard it all from here.” 

Clint flushed red in embarrassment. “Ehrm, sorry?” 

For the first time, Phil turned to look at Clint, in his perfect crisp white school uniform, perfectly knotted tie, perfectly pressed blazer, and the SC badge shining on his breast pocket. He gave the jock an unimpressed look. 

“While I do not appreciate being made fun of, I thank you for your donation.” He deadpanned, quick and efficient before turning back to his book as if nothing happened.

Clint winced. He gathered his remaining dignity and stood up, brushing his fingers over his grass-covered behind then fluffing his hands together. Phil flipped his book again, eye serious, glued to the novel he was reading. Clint opened his mouth, feeling like a jerk and wanting to apologize again. But, in the end, he chickened out and closed it again. 

“Yeah, well,” He mumbled like a dumb hick, “I’ll see you around, Coulson.” He jogged back away, feeling like a monumental idiot with the touch of Phil’s lips still tingling on his mouth. 

**Author's Note:**

> Yay! Another C/C fic from me~ Because these boys are adorkably cute! So, I tried to challenge myself to write something _without_ smut to see if I can do some smut-free clean fluff. I tried, guys. I tried.
> 
> All things holy guys, give me some ideas here.  
> (And C/C comics I can read, seriously.)
> 
> If you have a prompt or an idea, you can [INSPIRE ME](http://arh581958.tumblr.com/submit) on tumblr.


End file.
